A Fruitful Encounter
by Schauspielerinnen
Summary: Hiver isn't a stalker, really, even if it does seem like that. He just has a severe case of social anxiety. And he has history with the magical apple tree. Hiver/Idoko -Sound Horizon


**A/N: **Written for my Secret Valentine, Sairin. Don't take it seriously, this was pretty rushed.

**Disclaimer:** I think people would kill me if I had the right to shape the future of Sound Horizon. See below.

* * *

><p><span>A Fruitful Encounter<span>

_Perhaps sending both Violette a nd Hortense out was not the best idea_, thought Hiver. Staying in the chateau alone was boring, and he was used to boring, but being used to boring did not make it any less boring, so to speak.

Well, he could always hope for Madame Holle to call him over for a visit, but unless she was planning to take the time to spread snow all over her fields, that was not quite happening in the foreseeable future.

Or maybe not, because when he peered out of the window in the east wing of the chateau, the fields were blanketed in white. Hiver took this to mean that he was entitled to pay her a visit and immediately popped over…

… only to find that it was not Madame Holle responsible for the mini-winter in her magical world, but rather a petite mademoiselle that was the only spot of color in the quiet plain. Naturally, upon encountering this unfamiliar presence Hiver's introverted personality kicked in. Which was a nicer way to say that he suffered a crippling bout of shyness and bolted for the nearest tree to hide behind.

Peering out from behind the tree trunk he observed this new worker. Madame Holle had mentioned having a few of them in the past, but Hiver had not had the chance to meet any of them. She seemed to put a great deal of attention into her work, if the way she aired the quilt was any indication. Her golden braids flapped vigorously in its wake, much to Hiver's fascination.

He might have continued to observe this charming mademoiselle if it had not been for the fact that the apple tree took umbrage at his insistence on using it as a support, and he was promptly distracted by an apple to the head. It was not painful, but it did elicit a surprised squeak from him. Thankfully the sound went unnoticed, more proof of the mademoiselle's firm focus on her job.

Admittedly, the apple tree never liked him. Ever since he dropped one of its fruits (by accident!) and let it roll all the way down the hill while assisting Madame Holle with her daily chores (the one and only time that he was permitted to), the tree took it as a personal slight and went out of its way to trip him up at every chance. Now that the tree had finally stepped over the line and nearly gave away his position, he could safely say that the animosity was mutual.

Giving the traitorous tree what was considered a dirty look by his standards, Hiver took a step away from the magical plant…

… and wound up being startled by a squeak behind him. Which then undid his earlier effort as he proceeded to jump forward, embracing the tree in the process.

It was not a friendly embrace, mind you.

Detaching himself from the tree (which was more than happy to see him go), he turned about expecting to find another magical object that he had not been fortunate enough to encounter earlier on his tour around with Madame Holle. Perhaps a stone that was not quite as inanimate as it should be, or a sleeping white rabbit that had gone unnoticed in the like-colored expanse it nested upon.

However, it seemed that whichever god or goddess of fate that reigned over this realm was out to get Hiver today, because the object that he had mistakenly trodden on was none other than the mademoiselle's right foot, which she was currently clutching in an attempt to sooth. Hiver imagined the expression on his face must have been a cross between mortification and sympathy, nothing close to flattering for a first meeting.

Then again, maybe the god or goddess had some mercy in them, for the mademoiselle was also too preoccupied with hopping and sending snow flying to take note of his face. At least, that was what he hoped.

She appeared to be dangerously on the verge of losing her balance. Like the gentleman he was, Hiver took hold of her elbows to assist her in keeping her footing. "I sincerely apologize for my carelessness, mademoiselle. I trust that you are unhurt?"

The mademoiselle blinked and stared at him with wide eyes as though she did not quite understand what he was saying. Perhaps he had spoken too fast? Although no one else seemed to have trouble understanding his speech… Oh yes, he should take a step back now that she was in no danger of falling over.

As though his words suddenly made sense, the mademoiselle beamed and brushed the snow from her hair. "Ja, Herr, I am fine." She peered at him curiously. "I haven't seen you around before, Herr. Do you work for Frau Holle too?"

Hiver was momentarily stumped by the strange words that she used, but he did catch the gist of her question. "Non, mademoiselle, I am but a mere watcher. My name is Hiver Laurant, and may I know who is it that I have the honor of meeting today?" A flourish and a bow were clearly in order, or so Hiver thought.

She was obviously taken aback by his courteous words and mannerisms, remaining silent for all of five seconds. "I'm Lorelei Ehrenberg, and it's nice to meet you, Herr Hiver." Clearly unsettled by the current situation but still smiling as brightly as ever, she brushed a thin layer of snow off the basket of apples by her feet and hugged it to herself. "You must be here to see Frau Holle. Come on, I'll take you to her."

It would hardly be gentlemanly of him to allow Lorelei to carry the apples alone, although truthfully that would not be the only consideration on his mind when he said "Allow me" and relieved her of her burden. Revenge on the apples was not included in those considerations either, for he anticipated that he would be grateful to the pesky fruits sometime in the near future.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me your roman, mademoiselle?" he asked as they made their way towards Madame Holle's humble residence. A lone set of footprints marked their trail, but Lorelei either had not noticed or had written it off as yet another quirk.

It was still quite a ways to their destination. The apples weren't growing any lighter, those spiteful little things. For various reasons, he hoped that the mademoiselle would consent to sharing her roman. Those reasons included his natural curiosity as a watcher of life and death, his increasing curiosity in the mademoiselle herself, the lovely tone of Lorelei's clear voice that he was beginning to quite like, and the wishful thinking that a roman would help him ignore the weight cradled in his arms.

Lorelei gave him a dazzling smile as she replied, "What is a 'roman'?"

As Hiver contemplated the best way to answer this (clearly baffling) question, an apple rolled off the pile in the basket and made its merry way down the hill.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I still support Hiver/tree. My birthday was five days ago. And I'm open to continuing this piece to be honest, as a stress-reliever. D-day is in a week, and my job isn't helping.


End file.
